Less Than Angelic
by mandy.luzader
Summary: Dean Winchester has returned from the dead, Sam Winchester is a blood junkie being fooled by a demon, Castiel is questioning everything he has ever known, and Valoel just wants to witness the excitement unfold. How will team free will handle a plus one?
1. Prologue

Less than Angelic

I know this is terribly short, however it seemed appropriate for a prologue and like a good stopping point. As always I don't own anything other than my original character and any original plot.

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Every angel in heaven and on earth felt it when a soul was taken from hell. Angels especially took notice when it was a soul as infamous as Dean Winchester's. The shock wave shook the earth, sending ripples of power around all corners. A few hundred miles out near the middle of the Indian Ocean, the ripples caused some slight waves in the previously still waters, disturbing a small form that was floating peacefully. A pale head with dark hair plastered to the sides of a decidedly feminine face lifted slightly and turned towards the West where the power originated. Slightly chapped pink lips curled into a smile before relaxing the muscles in her neck and allowing the water to once again take charge of her body.

"What are you up to now Father..?" her voice broke the silence as her eyelids fell shut, not bothering to look for an answer when she knew she wouldn't receive one. The thought of investigating what was happening on the opposite side of the world crossed her mind, but in that moment, she was far too content with the waters around her to make the journey.

It was beautiful. The way each organism in the sea below her and in the sky above her went through their short existence in perfect harmony. Even with her eyes closed, she could sense the life energy of everything around her. She could read each pulse every living thing gave off with every motion it went through. The algae turning the sun's pure energy into usable life, the small multitude of organisms most no larger than the nail on her smallest finger eating the algae, the fish in turn…

Her contentment and awareness was interrupted once more by another ripple of what could only be holy energy. This time the thin lines of hair above her eyes furrowed in confusion. As her eyes opened once more she realized in her appreciation of the life around her time had once again slipped away. Day had turned to night and was approaching morning once more. With the rising sun she was painfully aware of a lower angel attempting to speak in his true form on the mortal plane. The enochian language rang like the bells humans often had chiming in their churches through her mind, even from such a far distance she had no problem understanding the message.

Dean Winchester had returned, and Heaven had a mission for him.

Perhaps it was time to leave the wonders of the ocean behind, at least for a little while. It had been centuries since she had last walked among her Father's creations. It sounded like things were about to change, it would be a pity to miss anything. Thus, with a splash and a flutter of feathers, she was gone leaving the wide expanse of ocean seemingly empty once more.


	2. Observation

Less than Angelic

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Dean Winchester wasn't known for being the most patient man, but even he had to hide a slight smile when Bobby doused him with holy water. As annoying as it was to be tested so thoroughly it was just so like his grouchy father figure that the familiarity in the midst of all the crazy was somehow comforting. After all, it wasn't every day that a man rose from the dead, clawed his way out of his own pine box, and was stalked by some screeching monster. 'Could banshees be real after all…?' crossed his mind as an afterthought.

"I'm not a demon either you know." Dean said, spitting holy water over his shoulder.

"Sorry." Bobby replied with a sheepish grin and a shrug. "Can't be too careful"

Dean couldn't help but grin in response before grabbing a rag from the nearby table that was covered in the usual clutter. There seemed to be more liquor bottles than there usually were, Bobby's face seemed to have a few more lines etched into it, and of course Sam wasn't there, but he was home. Well, the closest thing to a home he had known since he was a child. Bobby's face scrunched up in confusion for a moment before turning and walking out of the kitchen.

"That don't make a lick of sense." Came tumbling from his lips, equal parts relief and disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're preaching to the choir." Dean managed to answer from behind the dark blue and white stripped cloth he was using to wipe the water off with as he followed Bobby. His face was drier, but his t-shirt couldn't be helped. Dean grimaced as he tugged at his neckline in discomfort.

"No, Dean. Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop, and you've been buried for 4 months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meatsuit…" Bobby carried on, a tired hand running down his face as Dean spoke up again.

"I know. I should look like a Thriller video reject."

Bobby couldn't help but scowl at the mental image before turning back to the topic at hand. Just how had his son escaped hell? It was definitely Dean, but was he back for good? The thought sent a ghost of pain through his chest before determination set in again. He refused to lose Dean again, so he pushed past his inner thoughts and forced his mind to focus on what would help him solve this puzzle.

"What do you remember?" he asked. It seemed like such a simple question, but even the smallest detail could give them a vital clue. Also, it might give him an idea how the younger man was doing. How much damage was done to him in hell?

Dean immediately broke eye contact as he leaned both arms on the wooden chair in front of him. "Not much. I remember I was a hellhound's chew toy and then lights-out. Then I come to six feet under. That's it." Bobby to a seat, looking almost dazed in his confusion. Nothing he had ever heard of could do something like this. "Sam's number isn't working. He's… uh… He's not…" Dean broke off, unable to really say the words as he gave Bobby an imploring look.

"Oh, He's alive. As far as I know." Bobby replied distantly. The younger Winchester boy hadn't been in touch in months. John had taught the boys all too well how to disappear, so Bobby couldn't find him no matter how he tried. It had been rough since Dean left them. Rather than pull together, Sam had wanted to distance himself. It had hurt, but Bobby understood the need and comforted himself with the thought that Sam would come to him when he was ready.

Relief flooded Dean's face before he managed to pull his usual act of nonchalance back into place. "Good" left his lips gruffly as he walked around the table towards where Bobby was sitting. Then the rest of Bobby's sentence clicked into place. "Wait. What do you mean as far as you know?" confusion once again settling in. What exactly had happened when he died?

Bobby turned in his seat and sat forward, elbows resting on his knees causing his ratty green flannel shirt to pull slightly around his arms. "I haven't talked to him for months." He admitted to Dean before looking away, already knowing how Dean was going to react to the news.

Sure enough, Dean's head snapped up and a hint of anger set in his voice. "You're kidding? You just let him go off by himself?" hands automatically spreading to his sides. Even his body language gave off a clear 'what the fuck?' stance.

"He was dead set on it." Was all Bobby could say as he stood up once again, turning to see if a book laying on the table nearby could have any answers.

"Bobby, you should have been looking after him" Dean said, anger turning to disappointment as he once again stepped forward to move with Bobby.

Forgetting the book for a moment, Bobby turned around. Finally, a hint of irritation settling in though he wasn't sure if it was towards the younger or the older Winchester. "I tried! These last few months haven't exactly been easy you know. For him or me. We had to bury you!" The pain that flashed across his face was enough to make Dean look away again.

"Why did you bury me anyway?" Dean couldn't help but ask as he realized that he hadn't gotten a hunter's funeral.

"I wanted you salted and burned, you know the usual drill." Dean nodded along with his words as if to say 'obviously, what else would you do?' bringing a small smile to Bobby's lips before he carried on. "But Sam wouldn't have it."

"Well, I guess I should be glad he won that one." Dean joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Bobby didn't take the bait. "He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said or would talk about."

Anger and fear ran though Dean at those words. "What do you mean?" he asked looking at Bobby sharply as it all started to click.

"He was quiet. Real quiet. Then he just took off, wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he don't want to be found."

"Damn it Sammy!" Dean scowled viciously, running a hand across his forehead as he tried to think of a solution. It was looking pretty clear to Dean that Sam had a hand in whatever brought him back topside. A heavy feeling settled in his gut, anything with enough juice to bring a soul back from hell, and restore a destroyed, decayed body couldn't be good. With the memory of the gravesite still in his mind he was all the more convinced that whatever had brought him back could only be a demon with heavy mojo or some other dark monster Sam had dealt with.

Bobby stared at Dean warily, watching the tension in the younger man. "What?" he demanded, unsure what epiphany Dean had just had.

"Oh, he got me home okay but whatever he did, it is bad mojo." Dean explained, frustration growing with every word.

"What makes you so sure?" Bobby's eyes grew wide at what Dean was implying. Had Sam made a crossroads deal? The horrific irony was nearly too much to stomach. Neither man wanted to believe it, but what else could have brought Dean back from the dead?

Dean grimaced in response but carried on with his theory. "You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off! Then there was this…" he faltered for a moment, unsure how to explain what he had experienced. "This force, this presence that I-I don't know. But it… it blew past me at a fill-up joint. Then there's this" he finished, unsure if Bobby had understood what he was trying to say.

With a shrug of his shoulders Dean removed his outer shirt, the dark blue button up now only hanging off one arm while he rolled up his left sleeve. There, encompassing his entire shoulder, was a clearly humanoid hand print. It looked almost as if Dean had been burned viciously, leaving behind a red-pink raised scar in almost the perfect shape of a hand. Bobby's face contorted once it was revealed, paling slightly as he jumped from his seat to get a closer look at the marking on his son's arm.

"What in the hell?" were the only words Bobby could manage to say. In all his years of hunting, he had never seen something quite like it.

"Yeah, it's like a demon just yanked me out." Dean frowned at the alternative "or rode me out."

"but why?" Bobby hoped Dean was connecting the pieces differently than he was, only to be disappointed when he responded with a "to hold up their end of the bargain I'd say"

'Balls' he thought to himself before sighing heavily and looking at Dean. "You think Sam made a deal?"

Dean nodded gravely, a pained smirk on his face. "That's what I would have done." A scowl quickly took over his features once more. "Damnit. Alright, I'm going to shower. I'm covered in my own grave dirt and haven't bathed in at least four months. That's disgusting, even for me. Then we are going to track down Sam and figure this out." It seemed like as good of a plan as any, so Bobby just nodded and started scouring the books while Dean headed up the stairs.

Unbeknownst to the humans in the house, an unseen figure was watching them curiously. Using her powers, she had removed the sea salt and wetness from herself before settling in to observe the Winchester male that she had heard so much about. She couldn't tell if she should be amused or offended by their lack of knowledge. How was this man supposed to do anything if he didn't even know what holy power was? She vaguely remembered this 'shower' he mentioned involved a ritual of cleaning oneself while unclothed so she didn't bother following him to the upper level of the residence, choosing instead to watch the older male. Nudity and modesty was a decidedly human trait, but she didn't think anything worth observing would occur so she stayed.

He was Robert 'Bobby' Singer. His soul was a kind one, but damaged by his life. Nearly as damaged as his liver she noted circling him curiously. He was taller than her form and though there seemed to be a surprising amount of strength for a mortal, he clearly wasn't taking care of his flesh. She thought it was strangely fitting, his soul and his body were similar in that way. Unfortunately, he wasn't doing anything interesting either simply sitting and staring at the slices of tree mankind had chosen to use as writing material this era. She had much preferred the papyrus scrolls from the desert dwellers.

She abandoned the house to explore the outside of the property, keeping her form hidden as an afterthought. It was clear to her what had happened to Dean. An angel without a vessel had raised him from hell, most likely a garrison soldier. Absently she wondered if it was anyone she knew. Perhaps Anna? Her garrison seemed to be sent out on the most dangerous stunts. Though the size of the print suggested a larger hand. Perhaps Uriel? It had been too long to truly count the time since she had last been among the angels though. There may be new soldiers she hadn't met.

'Not that I associated with very many back then anyway...' crossed her mind as a small smile graced her lips.

"Father, did you make me this way on purpose? Is my… personality I believe the humans call it, this way for your plan? I didn't accomplish my mission. I can't help but wonder if I would have done better if you had made it easier to connect with your angels." As always, she spoke without expecting any response. She wasn't even sure if she really thought anyone could hear her words anymore.

God had left. Nobody knew where he had gone or what he was doing. Regardless, she couldn't help but talk to him at times. She hadn't been around as long as some of the angels, Raphael, Lucifer, Michael, and Gabriel had been the first. Then God had created the Seraphs and your run of the mill angels. Sometime after that, God had created her. Once she had come into existence he finished his holy ranks with the Cherubim, Grigori, Reapers, and the Rit Zien. So, she wasn't the oldest creation, but she had seen the buildup and the fall of the Leviathans. She had helped give her Father the idea of purgatory so He wouldn't have to kill his creations. She had been there when mankind was made, when Lucifer had been corrupted, when the battles had raged over heaven and earth alike, then she had left. Rather than live in the heavens among the angels, she chose to immerse herself in the wonders of earth.

Perhaps her love for the smaller realm was part of why she never connected with the angels. She was often called irresponsible or absentminded. She never became a huge fan of mankind, finding their tendency to ruin the world around them distasteful. Many species she had appreciated and bonded with had been exterminated by men. So, she struggled with her Father's command to love mankind more than others. She still found them interesting creatures, she just found that she much preferred the presence of nature and the various animals that had evolved on earth.

She was brought out of her introspective thoughts by the jarring sound of an engine starting up, the obnoxious grinding of metal and burning of gas startling her enough that she briefly became visible to the mortals. Luckily the two men were already directing the vehicle out of the driveway that lead to the Singer household and didn't see the small female standing next to the house they had just exited before her form became invisible once more.


End file.
